


Making Sense of the Clues

by Small_Hobbit



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 20:21:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3950431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock receives a call from Lestrade late at night, but the call makes no sense and Lestrade is clearly confused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making Sense of the Clues

**Author's Note:**

> With grateful thanks to my beta Canon_Is_Relative.
> 
> The original prompt was over a year ago and I've since forgotten where it came from - if it was yours do let me know.

Late at night Sherlock’s mobile rang. Sherlock answered it, “Lestrade?”

_“Hello.”_

“What have you got for me?” Sherlock’s tone caused John to look up.

_“Erm, nothing.”_

Sherlock’s next question made John put his book down, so he could give the conversation his full attention. “What are you doing?”

_“Talking to you.”_

Sherlock put his mobile onto speakerphone and then caught John’s eye before asking, “Where are you?”

_“Here.”_

John joined in. “Are you standing or sitting?”

_“Sitting.”_

Sherlock added, “What are you sitting on?”

_“My bum.”_

This was clearly of no help, so he clarified his question. “Are you sitting on a chair or the floor?”

_“The floor.”_

Sherlock glanced across at John, who nodded to show he understood they would both need to ask basic questions, before he began with, “Is it dark?”

_“It’s night time.”_

Sherlock hummed in acknowledgement. “Look around. Tell me what you can see.”

_“Ow.”_

John hurriedly interrupted saying “Don’t move your head if it hurts”.

_“That was my arm. It doesn’t seem to be quite right.”_

“Okay, don’t move unless you have to,” John said.

Sherlock said, “Look straight ahead. What do you see?”

_“My knees. I can see one knee quite clearly. The other one is wearing trousers.”_

It was John’s turn. “Greg, I want you to put your phone down carefully by your side so you can find it again. Then I want you to use your hand to feel all over your head for me. Can you do that?”

_“Yes.”_

John continued, “And once you’ve done that, pick the phone up and talk to me again.”

There was a pause, while Sherlock and John waited anxiously for Lestrade to speak to them again. John wondered why Sherlock hadn’t told the inspector to put his phone onto speaker, but realised in his confusion Lestrade might well only have succeeded in cutting the call.

_“I’ve got eyes, a sore nose and a mouth. And the back of my head isn’t as round as I thought it was.”_

John nodded to himself; the last sentence wasn’t surprising. “Have you got any blood on your hand?”

_“No.”_ There was a sniff. _“Um, a little bit.”_

John mouthed ‘nose bleed’ at Sherlock, before the other man asked, “Are you leaning on anything?”

_“A wall. I’d fall over otherwise.”_

Sherlock said, “Put the hand you used to feel your head on the wall next to your back. Then tell me what it feels like.”

There was a further pause, accompanied by some muttering. Sherlock spoke urgently, “Lestrade – pick the phone up!”

_“It’s rough, but there are smooth bits.”_

Sherlock continued, “Good. Now feel the ground you’re sitting on and then pick the phone up again and tell me about it.”

_“Smooth.”_

“And is it cold?”

_“Not particularly.”_

“What can you hear?”

_“You.”_

John tapped Sherlock’s arm, but Sherlock continued, “When I’m not talking, what can you hear?”

_“Cars, lorries, voices. More voices than there were.”_

“Can you hear what they’re saying?”

_“Foreign.”_

“Do the voices sound cross or happy?”

_“No, just normal. Oh, that’s nice.”_

“What’s nice?” John failed to keep the concern out of his voice.

_“I can smell bread.”_

Sherlock smiled. “Excellent, Lestrade, we’re on our way.”

Sherlock passed his mobile to John and demanded John’s in return. They dashed down the stairs, Sherlock shouting instructions over the phone as they went. Once on the street he hailed a cab and barked the address at the driver. There was little traffic around, being the early hours of the morning, and it didn’t take long for them to reach their destination. John hastily paid the driver, before following Sherlock, who was already speaking to Sally Donovan.

“You’ve not told anyone else?” Sherlock asked urgently.

“What do you take me for?” Sally replied. “We suspected someone in the department was passing information to the gang. The fact the Boss was abducted must mean he found out something more and without knowing who was involved I had to do as you said. I’m surprised you even trusted me.”

“You may be many things, Sergeant Donovan,” Sherlock said, “but your loyalty to Lestrade is beyond question. John will fill you in on Lestrade’s condition while I pick the lock.”

John looked surprised, but said, “He’s almost certainly concussed. I think he’s broken his arm and has various other lesser injuries.”

Sherlock had opened the door. “Right,” he said, “Come on. We don’t have much time before some of the gang return. They’ll arrive when the bakers start to do their first deliveries – less chance of being noticed if there’s a number of vehicles moving.”

They headed down the stairs to the cellar; Sally shining the way with her torch. They found Lestrade leaning against the wall. He blinked at them, looking confused. “What ...?”

“No time for explanations,” Sherlock said. “We need to get out of here.”

John and Sally helped Lestrade to his feet and back up the stairs. Once outside he was able to stumble to Sally’s car, with their assistance. John helped Lestrade with his seat belt and then realised Sherlock was already in the back seat, so joined him.

“Not planning on waiting for the captors?” Sally asked.

“Merely small fry,” Sherlock replied. “The important thing was to rescue Lestrade. If you drop us off on Commercial Road we can make our own way back.”

“How did you know where he was?” John asked.

“It was obvious. Given what we already knew about the gang, I had an idea of their different haunts. From Lestrade’s description he was in some form of cellar, but one which was used regularly – the flooring wasn’t concrete, which narrowed it down. And as soon as I knew he was close to a foreign run bakery there was only one place he could be. The good news is the gang’s cage has clearly been rattled, which will make our job a lot easier now.”

The groan from the front seat gave John the impression not everyone thought this was good news.

 

 

 


End file.
